Broken Toys
by Jessiclar
Summary: Moriarty is preparing John just before the pool scene. What John doesn't know is how far Moriarty is going to take that. Warning: Rape.


**I hate myself for writing his. I seriously do. I don't even know how I came to the idea. I feel terrible. Either way, here it is. If you didn't read the thing already: Warning - Rape. **

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><p>"I'm sorry it had to come to this, John." Moriarty hissed in John's ear. His lips almost pressing to the skin. "Really, I am, John."<p>

John left out a muffled cry from beyond the silver duck-tape pressed over his mouth. He had long given up fighting his rope bounds. He felt that if he still cried out then Sherlock would come to his rescue. Maybe. Just maybe. He didn't have a clue what Moriarty had in store for him but he knew he would not like it. Taking that into consideration, even though he may not like it, he was prepared to take as many blows for Sherlock as possible. Even if it lead him to be black and blue.

A short, sharp pain surrounded his mouth as he felt the tape being ripped off. He drew in a few deep breaths before glancing up at the man before him. "Hit me all you like, it won't matter."

"I know, John, that's why I'm not going to hit you." A sinister smile spread across Moriarty's face as he looked down at the tied up man before him. It sent chills down John's spine. "I'm going to do much worse."

John thought momentarily. Trying to think of a possible situation. "But wha- You wouldn't?"

"Sherlock gets to have all the fun with his toys, John. I think it's time he shared." Moriarty grabbed John's jaw and forced it towards his direction before he planted his lips harshly upon John's. John tried to squirm but his restraints kept him firmly locked in place. Everything felt wrong. His lips beginning to throb from the biting taking place. He tried not to call out. Not to show Moriarty it was affecting him. That way he would stop quicker. Teeth dragged along his lower lip before they released and drew away. A quick flash of relief spread over John. "Oh, I'm not stopping there, John. This is only the beginning."

The cold hands of Moriarty soon found their way running down John's sleeves. "I think we'll leave this on." He hissed again. Sounding less human by the minute.

Grabbing hold of the restraints, Moriarty forced John to his feet and turned him round so John could no longer see the evil in his eyes. He still felt the hands on his body though. The hands soon moved from his arms to his waist. "Tut tut, John. No belt."

John shuddered as the voice entered his ears. He had his eyes firmly closed. Trying to wish away the warehouse. This was just another nightmare. Another sick filled nightmare belonging to war haunted John Watson. He'd open his eyes and everything would be normal.

John opened his eyes.

Nothing changed.

A hand reached around John's waist, the fingers twirling around the button on John's trousers. The button released easily and it wasn't long before the sound of unzipping metal echoed. An evil chuckle erupted from Moriarty's mouth and John felt every one bouncing off of him. He tried to regain his perfect army posture. The comforting one he had become accustom to but it was no use. Every time he came close to relaxing he would feel lips press to the skin of his neck. A rough hand holding him still whilst the other still firmly holding his trousers. That, however, didn't last very long.

He felt the fabric fall from his skin as the hand let go of their hold. His legs felt bare to the cold air filling the room. The lips removed themselves from his neck and he realised that Moriarty was looking down at him. "A boxers man. I had you down as briefs."

Even though John could not see his face he was sure that the smirk was there. Especially as a Moriarty began to thumb the waistband of his underwear. Delicate skin rubbed against his skin as John repressed the urge to yell out. It wasn't long before John felt the flimsy material collect at his ankles along with his trousers. "Step. Out."

The words felt like daggers cutting his skin but he complied. Left foot first he managed to free himself from the sea of material surrounding his feet. The laughter echoing in his ear sickened him to the core. "Now, John, I want you to slowly get down on your knees. Carefully now, remember your arms are tied." The soft tone made John's stomach flip in an unpleasant fashion. Slowly he lowered himself to his knees so he would not topple over. "That's a boy. Now I'm going to untie your arms so you can get on all fours. Just like the obedient dog you are and I want no funny business, John. You try anything and a bullet will be in your head faster than you can scream 'Sherlock'. Understand?"

John nodded as he felt the restraints on his torso loosen up. His hands soon free. He thought about turning around and placing them around Moriarty's neck. Something. Anything. In the end he didn't get a chance. His hands were put to the task of breaking his fall after Moriarty had pushed him forward. He was vulnerable. Positioned on all fours in the middle of a dark warehouse. No one but himself and Moriarty. No one he could turn to help to.

A secondary sound of unzipping filled the air as he saw his trousers and underwear kicked to the side. He tried to close his eyes but they refused. John almost jumped as he felt a hand caress his thigh and the brushing of a knee against his skin. "It will be over before you know it, John."

A searing pain coursed through John's body as he let out a cry. His body felt like it was on fire. As Moriarty motioned himself into a rough tempo causing the cries and moans of John to become more pain ridden. John bit down on his lip. Trying to silence his own cries of agony. It failed as the burning continued to spread through his body.

Hands were firmly placed on his hips, making John's skin crawl. He could feel his arms buckling but he didn't dare let them drop. Just in case. His eyes were stung with tears he was trying to repress. Not out of sadness but out of pain. It didn't take long before he became fixated upon the forgotten lump of clothing near him. His trousers laid in a untidy heap as he tried to focus on them. Anything he could do to take his mind off of the torture he was enduring.

Monstrous grunts filled the air as John could feel minute droplets of sweat dropping onto his skin from above. These grunts were drowned by the occasional whimpers emitted from John's lips.

It went on for what seemed like hours but soon he felt the added body pressure release from behind him. A warm trail running down his leg. John's body shook all over as the man behind him stood up and readjusted himself. "That wasn't so bad was it, John?" A wicked laugh pierced his ears. "Come along, John. Get dressed. We have to prepare you for the pool."

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><p>John felt his skin crawl as Moriarty's hand brushed against his arm. He felt disgusting. Violated. Soon Sherlock would arrive and he would be able to tell what had happened. He would be able to read it in the air.<p>

John refused to look Moriarty in the eye. Especially after the last device had been strapped to his body and the obscenely large coat dragged onto his body. The sooner he could get away from that place, from that man and from those new horrors; the better.

"Come along, John, it's time I returned Sherlock's toy." Moriarty smirked. "I hope he doesn't mind it broken."

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><p>John curled up within the corner of his room. Knees tightly pressed to his chest. He was back home. He was safe. Sherlock had saved him and, by the looks of it, had not noticed the changed to John at all.<p>

John felt a pain in his chest as he contemplated those thoughts. The tears collecting inside his eyes. He tried to contain them but they just made his eyes raw with pain. Not that you could tell, the light was switched off. Emerging John in the darkness. Cloaking John from his pain.

The door creaked open as the figure of Sherlock Holmes stood in the door way. John looked up momentarily before returning to his ball like state. He didn't say anything to Sherlock. He just ignored him. Reverting back to his isolated world in hopes that it would provide him with sanctuary. John sighed at the idea. It would be delightful for his to possess such things but nightmares plagued his head.

The floor boards creaked as John could hear Sherlock move closer towards him. Soon the detective was sitting next to the curled up John on the floor. John didn't open his eyes but he did rest his head upon Sherlock's lap. He tried to gain some familiarity. To get use to somebody who would not make his skin crawl just by touching him. It helped. His breathing slowed down as he could feel the movement of Sherlock's leg beneath him.

John had cringed slightly when Sherlock had placed his hand upon John's head and began to pat his hair lightly. The pair didn't looked at one another, instead they just sat there in peace. Letting John speak his mind without uttering a single syllable.

Sherlock let John cry on him. He let John crawl up closer into his arms. Soon the detective felt the man go limp and fall fast asleep. Still he didn't let go. They both remained there, even in the darkness of night. Sherlock just sat there, staring down at the sleeping John. His eyes looked distant. Like they were carrying some unexplainable pain. Leaning forward, Sherlock pressed a kiss softly to John's ear which caused the man to shudder in his sleep. "I'm sorry. It's all my fault."

By morning both men asleep on the bedroom floor, holding onto each other. As if they depended on each other to heal the scars left on the tainted skin of their minds.

One was consumed with disgust at himself.

The other by guilt.

Most people just throw broken toys away but not Sherlock Holmes. This was one broken toy he was determined to keep.


End file.
